classifiedscript Chapter 196: The Unholy Kiss
Chapter 196: The Unholy Kiss
Even inside the narrow wooden casket, Elvira was not entirely free. Though her severed, mangled legs were heavily bound by rusted iron chains that rattled against the pine wood, her hands had been left untouched—unbound, clawing desperately at the edges of her premature grave.
"Olivia, untie me! I’m telling you, let me out!" Elvira shrieked, her voice cracking as she scraped her fingernails against the wooden walls. "You will regret this! You will damn well regret this!"
Olivia didn’t blink. She turned her head slightly toward the silver-haired young man beside her. "Leon, can you leave us alone for a moment? I have something to say to her. I want to say my proper goodbyes."
Leon glanced from Olivia’s unyielding face down to the thrashing creature in the dirt, then offered a silent, understanding nod. "Alright, as you wish. I’ll be waiting just over there."
He stepped away, his heavy boots crunching against the frosted grass until he was out of earshot, though his watchful eyes never left her form.
"Regret?" Olivia finally spoke, a cold, twisted smile playing on her lips as she stared into the pit. "And why on earth would I regret this, sister? After everything you’ve done to me... should I regret tearing you apart, just as you once tore my entire existence into shreds?"
For a fraction of a second, a hot, bitter wave of unshed tears threatened to break through her frozen composure. Olivia forced them back, swallowing the lump in her throat until it turned into pure steel.
"I tried... I tried so hard to be one of you," Olivia whispered, her voice trembling with the ghost of a shattered child. "To find a single place for myself within that family. All I ever asked for was a drop of affection. A single drop of love. But you and your father... you destroyed me in every agonizing way possible. Tell me, Elvira... did you leave me any room left for regret?"
Despite the dirt smearing her face and the terrifying depth of the pit, Elvira managed to pull her lips into a arrogant, venomous smirk. She leaned her head back, her yellow eyes flashing with a pathetic sense of security.
"I know you won’t do it, Olivia," Elvira purred, her voice dripping with unearned confidence. "You won’t cover this box. I am still your little sister. You can never truly run away from your own blood, Olivia. You’re too weak for this."
A sharp, entirely humorless laugh escaped Olivia’s throat. Moving with deliberate, dangerous care, she stepped closer to the very edge of the grave, standing directly above the open casket. She leaned down into the shadows of the earth, her voice dropping into a low, lethal whisper meant for Elvira’s ears alone—completely hidden from Leon’s distant posture.
"Sister...?" Olivia murmured, her breath cold against Elvira’s bruised skin. "You truly dare to call me your sister? Ah... it would be such an absolute waste to bury you in this dark ground without letting you know the truth."
"I am not your sister," Olivia whispered, each word cutting through the damp air like a shards of glass. "In fact, I do not share a single drop of blood with a wretched creature like you."
Olivia let out a long, heavy breath—a sigh of pure, absolute relief that she had held in for years.
"Oh, truly... I needed that breath," Olivia murmured, her eyes cold as ice. "I do not share my blood with your filthy veins, Elvira. We are not sisters. I am the daughter of Lucius, not Roland."
Olivia steeled herself, expecting Elvira to gasp, to break down, or to cry out in stubborn denial. But what happened next was entirely unnatural.
Elvira didn’t cry. Instead, a look of pure, unadulterated joy washed over her bloodied face—a wide, frantic, completely mad smile.
"We are not sisters?" Elvira rasped, her yellow eyes widening with sudden light. "Truly?"
Olivia froze, a chill running down her spine. "What...?" She stumbled over her words, caught off guard. "Did you already know?"
"No," Elvira whispered, her breathing turning ragged as her mad grin stretched to her ears. "But I damn well wish I did!"
"Huh—?"
Before Olivia could even process the words, she failed to notice Elvira’s unbound hands creeping up from behind her. In a sudden, violent, and explosive movement, Elvira’s fingers locked around the back of Olivia’s head, violently pulling her down into the tight darkness of the casket.
For a single, fatal second, Olivia had forgotten that even if this monster was mutilated and drugged, she was still a terrifying, unpredictable lunatic.
Elvira slammed Olivia’s face close to hers and locked her lips onto Olivia’s in a forced, vicious, and desperate kiss. Olivia thrashed wildly, her hands clawing at Elvira’s chest, trying to tear herself away, but Elvira held on with the unnatural strength of a madwoman.
Centuries away, Leon was still standing with his back turned, keeping his distance just as she had commanded. But the sudden sound of rustling and muffled gasps made him stiffen. He spun around, and noticing her sudden disappearance from the edge, his heart dropped.
He sprinted toward the grave. "Olivia?!"
He lunged into the pit, his powerful grip catching Olivia by her waist and violently ripping her backward and upward, tearing her out of the creature’s iron grasp.
"Olivia...!" Leon breathed heavily, stepping between her and the pit, his hand instinctively reaching for his blade.
Olivia stood on the frosted grass, completely paralyzed by sheer shock, her breath coming in ragged gasps as her hand trembled against her lips. Down in the dark box, Elvira lay on her back, her face painted with a victorious, completely psychotic smirk before she burst into a frantic, howling laughter.
"If only you had told me this sooner!" Elvira screamed from the bottom of the earth, her frantic, bloodied face twisted in a look of pure, toxic adoration. Her laughter echoed horribly against the wooden walls, bouncing in the tight space. "If only you did! I would have done the impossible to make you mine! I would have never let Father hand you over to that bastard Duke!"
Leon pulled Olivia further away, his eyes darting frantically over her pale, shocked face. "Olivia... Olivia, look at me. Are you alright?!"
"Yes..." Olivia choked out, her voice barely a whisper as she stared blankly at the dirt. "Just... this lunatic... My God..."
For a long, agonizing moment, the graveyard fell silent, save for the chilling, echoing sound of Elvira’s maniacal laughter ringing from the depths of the open grave. The heavy air felt thick, charged with a repulsive, twisted tension. Leon looked from Olivia’s trembling form down into the pit, a look of profound disgust hardening his features. The dark euphoria down there was entirely unholy.
Unable to take the sound a second longer, Leon grabbed the heavy wooden lid of the casket. His knuckles turned white, his muscles straining under his dark coat as he hoisted the massive oak slab, determined to shut out the madness.
Down in the dark, the shifting of the wood finally broke Elvira’s trance. The reality of the descending dark hit her, and her screech tore through the freezing air, sharp and frantic.
"You can’t kill me, Olivia! Olivia! OLIVIAAAA—!"
At the sound of her name being ripped from that bloodied throat, a sudden, violent wave of nausea washed over Olivia. Her stomach churned aggressively, the heavy physical toll of her pregnancy crashing into the sheer, suffocating reality of what she was doing. She stood frozen on the frosted grass, her hand instinctively pressing hard against her abdomen, fighting down the bitter bile as her vision blurred.
Before Elvira could utter another shriek, Leon slammed the heavy oak lid down with a resounding, definitive *crack*.
But the thick wood couldn’t stifle her madness. From inside the sealed box, Elvira’s muffled voice continued to pound against the surface, shrieking Olivia’s name with a terrifying, desperate ferocity that vibrated through the earth.
"Damn it, this lunatic... what the hell is wrong with her?!" Leon cursed under his breath, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow and shaking his head in sheer disbelief. The bickering, casual tone they shared earlier was entirely gone, swallowed by the gravity of the tomb. He turned his sharp gaze back to Olivia, leaning heavily on the handle of his shovel. "So, sister-in-law? What is your command?"
Olivia stood rigid, her knees trembling beneath her heavy black skirts, her mind temporarily locked in the suffocating echoes of her sister’s prayers and screams. But Leon’s voice broke through the ice, dragging her back to the freezing reality of Locron. She drew a sharp, shivering breath, forcing her posture to straighten.
"Start throwing the dirt, Leon," Olivia whispered, her voice dropping into a dry, cold monotone. "Please. Her voice... it’s irritating me."
"As you command."
Without hesitation, Leon lifted the first heavy scoop of frozen earth and dumped it onto the center of the wooden box. *Thud.*
Within minutes, the rhythmic, brutal sound of dirt raining down into the abyss filled the graveyard. Leon moved with tireless efficiency, throwing pile after pile into the pit. Slowly, the hollow echoes of Elvira’s screeching began to dim, muffled by the growing weight of the earth, shifting into a low, pathetic whine before fading into absolute, dead silence above ground.
But beneath the heavy, rising soil, a living nightmare was unfolding.
Elvira thrashed frantically inside the tight, suffocating darkness of the casket. She tried every possible way to lift her upper body, to force the heavy lid open, but her severely chained legs and her mutilated, broken limbs rendered her utterly helpless against the wood. The tight space grew smaller with every passing second. The oxygen vanished, replaced by the suffocating, claustrophobic smell of raw dirt and pine wood.
A violent, animalistic panic finally shattered what remained of her fractured mind. She began to scratch at the pitch-black wooden ceiling above her, her fingernails splintering, tearing, and bleeding against the raw, unyielding pine. She started screaming Olivia’s name, her voice dissolving into pure, unadulterated hysteria.
"You can’t leave me here, Olivia...! Olivia, open this cursed thing! OLIVIA—!"
She chanted the name over and over, repeating it like a twisted, desperate prayer before death. Her raw, bleeding fingers kept clawing uselessly at the darkness as her breath grew shorter, her lungs burning for an oxygen that wasn’t there, and her frantic strength began to wither away into nothingness.
In her final, suffocating moments, the last words that escaped her lips were not a curse. It was not the name of her mother, nor the name of the powerful father she had always relied on to save her.
Instead, it was a broken, gasping whisper that died completely in the dark:
"Olivia... don’t leave me here."
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